


Dreaming In Metaphor

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Dreams, First Kiss, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-16
Updated: 2009-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams about Morgan wake Reid up to feelings he's never known before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming In Metaphor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the April-May 2009 Home challenge at *morganreid_cm*.

The first dream wasn't an actual rescue. He was falling down. Gravity pulling him deeper and deeper, going farther and farther. Falling. All he can remember of that dream is an ocean of darkness that seemed to be waiting for him to land so it could swallow him whole. Only when he landed it was gentle. As if he'd been caught right before landing and was set soundly on his feet at the shore. After waking he couldn't figure out what the shore was for or what it buffered against.

The second, third and fourth time he had the dreams he could see whose hands were reaching out, whose soft grin waited to greet him. But he still wasn't being saved from a fire or a killer or some awful disease. Every single one of the dreams involved a dark ocean of water or a black empty hole. And though he guesses the darkness was his own or someone else's mind (mental illness runs in families, he's well aware) he doesn't know why Morgan would be the one to catch him. No one else from the team was ever in the dreams and they were never clearly about prior or present cases. Other than his work all else in his life is pretty stable. He has friends he trusts with his life and a mother who, while not well, is doing okay with the proper medication.

Which is why it really startles him when the fifth dream is about him saving someone else. It isn't a person. There's no definable shape and size. There is just him with his hands open and palms up. Him waiting. And waking up right as a feeling of peace overtakes him. As if it's his turn to be there and he is more than willing.

He doesn't know that Morgan's name slips from his lips. He just blinks himself into consciousness. He is sitting beside Hotch who is reading up on their latest case. Hotch looks over at him and bares a few teeth. It's supposed to be a smile. It isn't. Hotch doesn't ask about the dream he knows Reid had. Instead he tells him to get a little more sleep since they have another hour before they land.

"Dreaming in metaphor..." Spencer murmurs in response.

Hotch stares at him, his face as blank as always. He indicates for Spencer to continue by putting the file down.

"Darkness. Falling. Being saved. Saving. It’s all dreaming in metaphor." He blinks suddenly awake, realizing telling his boss is not the best of moves.

"And Morgan? Is he saving or being saved in your dreams?" Spencer looks over at him blankly. "You said his name. I assumed he was in your dream."

Spencer thinks about it for a minute, then makes a decision to trust that this conversation will stay between the two of them. "Before he was always saving me. This one, though, was about me saving him. His face was so clear. And he was smiling like nothing was wrong..." Spencer starts to rattle off facts about dreams and REM stage sleep but Hotch puts up a hand.

"It certainly sounds metaphorical. But, Reid, your dreams are very real. You want to be saved by Morgan and you want to save him as well."

"From what?"

"Yourselves. The dark side of human nature." Hotch's piercing brown eyes narrow with perception. "The better question is for what do you want to save and be saved? Friendship? Or love?"

Spencer ponders the words for the next few weeks because he can't not. He has to analyze, chart, calculate everything, including his emotions. When he finally figures out that the answer to Hotch's question is both friendship and love it predictably stuns him into blushing each time he sees Morgan at the office. He barely talks to the other man after that, anxiously spouting off facts and figures during cases but keeping quiet otherwise.

He shouldn't be surprised then when Morgan shows up one night at his apartment unannounced, bearing a rented copy of "Star Wars: Clone Wars" and a six-pack of coolers.

"You gonna let me in, Pretty Boy?" He smiles disarmingly, causing Spencer to blush once again.

Spencer pauses, struck dumb for the first time he can ever remember. He has no idea what to say or do next. It takes Morgan's smile mutating into a confused, concerned expression as he pushes his way past into Spencer's apartment for him to come back to reality. Even as he tucks his hair behind his ears his hands tremble slightly. He quickly puts them behind his back.

"You alright, Reid?"

"I'm fine," he replies, not looking into Morgan's eyes.

"'Fine' is a sociably acceptable response but it's never the truth. At least it's never the whole truth. And you know it..." Morgan places the six-pack and movie on the kitchen counter and turns to face him. He crosses his arms before asking, "Have I said something, done something, to upset you lately?"

"No! I-" Spencer rushes to explain but abruptly cuts himself off once his brain catches up with his mouth. He's never been here, never before experienced what he's feeling now, and it scares him more than anything.

"Talk to me. Maybe I can help."

His dark brown eyes are mesmerizing pools of tenderness and Spencer feels himself falling as if he's dreaming. He imagines Morgan's arms holding him, staring deep into his eyes with the most sensual smile. Spencer exhales loudly, startled by the sudden arousal filling his boxers. Somehow Morgan senses what's happening and steps forward.

"It's okay," he murmurs soothingly, his gaze now intensely focused on the curiosity that is Spencer Reid. "Don't be afraid, Kid. I won't hurt you."

"I know." It's automatic. The dreams and real life intertwining as Morgan stands there close enough to kiss. And Spencer is safe. He says the words because he does know.

"...I've wondered..." Morgan begins hesitantly, "about your hands..." Morgan sounds unsure, scared. Of all the sides he's seen of him, this is new. He likes it, likes that it humanizes the man that always acts like a super hero. "Wondered what they would look like...On my skin, I mean. I've wondered because they're so pale and thin and strong.....I've wondered what they'd feel like..."

The admission pulls Spencer in farther than he usually allows. But Morgan is different. He always has been. With him all Spencer's rules just don't apply.

"I-." He stops himself from telling facts about homosexuality in one in ten people and instead, forcing himself not to hide the jumbled mass of feelings zipping through him, says softly, "Yes, I...May I?" He reaches out a hand. He watches Morgan's face, watches determination steel over him as Morgan's fingers seek his.

Their fingers slot together like puzzle pieces. Morgan stares down at their hands in amazement, then gasps when Spencer takes a deep breath and leans forward to kiss him. The kiss is simple, scary, easy, and so sweet Spencer believes it just might melt his bones. Of course, no one ever told him it would also send fire through his veins. He thinks maybe, when Morgan finally starts kissing back, this is what friendship is, what love is. He thinks maybe this is what home is.


End file.
